by James Leck
“It was easy,” Madeleine said. “I just experimented with different shades of green and —”
I held up my hand and cut her off. “No … how did you … get the painting?”
“I knew about the ransom note,” Julian said, “so I decided to come here a little early to see if I could catch the thief in action.”
“And guess what, Jack?” KC said, slapping me on the back. “He did!”
“I just got lucky,” Julian said, shrugging. “He was coming out of the bathroom with the painting. I grabbed it and he ran away.”
“Who?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” Julian said. “He was wearing a mask.”
“Are you okay, Jack?” KC asked. “Why are you so sweaty?”
“I’ll tell you another time,” I said.
“Well, why don’t you come back to the school with us? We’re all going to help get ready for the big show tonight,” KC said. “I’m sure Madeleine would love to have you there, even if you didn’t solve the mystery.”
Madeleine smiled and nodded.
“I need a drink first,” I said. “And then a very long shower.”
“We’ll see you later, then,” KC said, and they all left me standing at the station.
I wiped my brow and headed for the exit. It’d been a long day. I needed time to think and a tall, frosty root beer float.
Thursday, October 10, 5:51 p.m.
29A Main Street, The Diner
I spent my time at The Diner sipping on my float and mulling over what just happened. Cain and Mike the Bookie had played me like a fiddle and I’d squeaked out all the right notes. I finished my float and decided to look into this mess later. It was time to go home and get some real grub. Tonight was meatloaf night, my favorite night of the week, but when I reached for my wallet, I realized I still had Julian’s phone in my pocket. I knew he was back at the school, helping Madeleine get set up for the art exhibit, so I figured the gentlemanly thing to do was to return it ASAP. Especially since he’d managed to save the day, no thanks to me, of course.
Thursday, October 10, 6:27 p.m.
Iona High, The AV Room
A kid named Ernie pointed me in the direction of the AV room when I asked where I could find Julian. There was the usual group of teachers and students scurrying around, trying to spruce up the school before the VIPs arrived, so nobody took any notice of yours truly waltzing in. Julian was rushing around, too, and he came whipping out of the AV room at the same time that I was walking in. We ended up on the floor with the stack of papers he’d been carrying floating down around us like giant snowflakes.
“Sorry about that,” Julian said, jumping up and starting to collect the papers.
“My fault,” I said, picking up a few sheets, too. They had big black arrows on them with the words “ART EXHIBIT” underneath. I also found a giant-sized key ring, packed with keys, under a couple of pages and handed them over. “You must have every key in the school on that.”
“Part of the job of being in charge of the audiovisual equipment,” he said, taking the keys from me.
I helped him gather up the rest of the papers and gave him the phone. “I figured you might want this back.”
“Thanks,” he said. “Sorry I can’t talk, Jack, but I have to get these posters up before the judges arrive.”
“No problemo,” I said, and he hustled down the hallway.
I considered staying for the show but decided I didn’t want to miss Grandma’s meatloaf, not after the day I’d just had. Plus, I needed a shower. On my way out, I met the first guest coming in. He was about four feet tall and looked like he might be celebrating his hundredth birthday sooner than later. I held the door open and he handed me a red envelope.
“What’s this?” I asked, a little surprised, since it looked exactly like the envelope that had been stuck to Madeleine’s locker.
“My ticket is inside! I’m Dr. Nessling!” he barked, taking off his black fedora and pointing at the envelope. His name was written in fancy looping script across the front. “I’m one of the judges! Take me to the gym!”
“Follow the arrows,” I said, pointing at the signs Julian had just put up. The black arrows clearly showed the way toward the gym.
“What!” he yelled, looking at me like I’d just suggested he go jump in a lake.
“Or you can follow me,” I said, and escorted him down to the gym. Ms. Henny, the art teacher, marched over as soon as we arrived and I excused myself.
“You should get a better doorman!” the good doctor yelled, and I exited stage right.
On my way out, I stopped in front of one of the signs with the black arrows. It had a smudge along the left side, just like the ransom note, which meant it must’ve been printed in the library, too. That’s when I actually managed to have a bright idea. It occurred to me that Ms. Slits, the librarian, required students entering the library to jot down their names and note the time of their entry on one of her sign-in sheets. And Ms. Slits was a stickler about those sheets. There’s no way you could slip in under an assumed name — believe me, I’ve tried a few times.
If I could peruse those sign-in sheets, I might be able to narrow down who’d been using the computers around the time that the ransom note had been stuck to Madeleine’s locker. And since Julian had the keys to every room in the school, I might actually be able to get some proof that tied Cain and Mike to the art heist. Then I could stop Cain from competing in tonight’s extravaganza and all would be right in the world. I just had to track down Julian.
So I headed back to the AV room. The light was on and the door was open, but Julian wasn’t there. I figured he’d be back soon and I grabbed a seat. While I waited I glanced at the computer monitor and noticed that there was a pop-up on the screen notifying him that something had just finished printing in the library. I figured that’s where he was, so I made a beeline for the library and arrived just as he was stepping out the door.
“I need to have a look at Ms. Slits’s sign-in sheets,” I said, squeezing past him.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Julian said, following me back inside.
“Don’t worry about it,” I said with a wink. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”
“Really, Jack,” he said, “I’m not supposed to let anyone else in here.”
“It’ll only take a second,” I said, grabbing the sign-in book from Slits’s desk and opening it up. I scanned the sign-in sheet from the time the library opened at 8:17 a.m. until noon, but Cain’s name wasn’t there, and neither was Mike’s.
“No luck?” Julian asked.
“Maybe they connected to the library printer from some other computer,” I said.
“Well, if anyone can track him down, Jack, it’s you.”
“I don’t know,” I said as we walked out. “I’m starting to wonder about that.”
“I guess you just have to follow the clues, right?” Julian said, locking the door behind us.
“That’s a good piece of advice,” I said. “And thanks for letting me in.”
“Sure, Jack” he said, walking away. “I wish I could help out more, but I’ve got to run.”
Julian was right; I just had to follow the clues. The only problem was that Cain and Mike had covered their tracks better than a snowshoe hare in a blizzard. I was banging my head against a wall and getting nowhere fast, so I decided (for the second time that night) to go home and sleep on it. Unfortunately I met Cain coming in.
“Good luck winning tonight,” I said. “I think the judges will be very impressed with a high school student who’s able to paint shapes.”
“You wouldn’t know art if it slapped you in the face, Lime,” he said, brushing past me.
“No, but I know a cheater when I see one. Too bad Mike was interrupted in the middle of your ploy. I guess stealing that painting was a big wa
ste of time, huh?”
“For the last time, we didn’t steal Madeleine’s painting.”
“Sure, Cain, you stick to that story. It sounds real cute.”
“I thought this might occur to you on your own, Lime, but why would I want to give Madeleine her painting back if I managed to steal it? If I wanted to get her out of the exhibition tonight, wouldn’t I just throw it in the garbage, where it belongs?”
“Funny,” I said, “I’ve been thinking the same thing about you all day.”
“Yeah, I have to go now, but I’ll be at Monty’s Café tomorrow after school, Jack. Why don’t you drop in and buy me a café mocha for winning the grand prize tonight?”
“I’d love to, Cain, except I’m going to be busy twiddling my thumbs.”
“I wish I could stay longer and gab about your hobbies, Jack, but I’ve got a contest to win,” he said, and then he turned and left.
I walked out the front doors and back into the crisp October night. Cain was a scoundrel and a rascal, but he made a good point: why not just toss Madeleine’s painting in the river? And if he wasn’t involved, then Mike probably wasn’t involved either. So who was the masked man at the train station? Whoever it was had to have access to the art room and the library printer. Plus, they’d probably be involved in the art exhibit, since they’d used the same type of red envelope for the ransom note that was being used to deliver the art show tickets. And what about motive? Would anyone really go through all that trouble for a measly fifty bucks? Who came out of this big mess smelling like a bunch of daisies? That’s when the answer hit me like a bucket of paint landing right on top of my head. I turned around and walked back into Iona High.
Thursday, October 10, 6:58 p.m.
Iona High, The Art Exhibition
When I walked into the gym, Julian was getting a pat on the back from Principal Snit and KC was capturing that magic moment for the Iona High Guardian. Madeleine was standing beside her painting, looking pleased as punch with the whole situation. She was wearing a black evening gown with a green shawl draped over her shoulders. Her hair was held up in a loose bun by two black chopsticks, and she’d put on some striking red lipstick that jumped out at you against her pale skin. This was a jazzed-up version of the girl I’d met that morning. Not that there was anything wrong with the girl I’d met earlier, but it helped me understand the motive behind the crime a little bit better.
When KC was done with the photo shoot, she wandered over to me. “Hi Jack,” she said, and then took a step back. “Wow, it smells like you didn’t have a chance to have that shower.”
“I got sidetracked,” I said, watching Julian stroll over to Madeleine and her painting. “All done taking pictures of the latest local hero?”
“You’re not jealous, are you, Jack?”
“You’re joking, right?”
“Well, I think he deserves the recognition. He solved the crime and saved the day.”
“There’s more to solving a crime than just finding the stolen merchandise. You have to ID the crook, too.”
“You’ve got a lead?” KC asked.
“Maybe,” I said, “but I need to ask Julian a few questions before I know the truth.”
I left KC and strolled over to Julian and Madeleine who were busy awkwardly staring at each other.
“Julian,” I said, “do you think you could let me into the art room?”
“I don’t think so, Jack,” he said. “I’m only supposed to use those keys for official school business.”
“I think there’s an important clue that we’ve missed,” I said. “It’ll only take me a minute.”
Julian looked at Madeleine. She smiled and nodded.
“Okay,” he said, leading the way out of the gym. “But it’ll have to be quick.”
“Quick and painless,” I said with a smile. “Well, maybe not painless,” I added, but I don’t think he heard that part.
Thursday, October 10, 7:11 p.m.
Iona High, The Art Room
Julian opened the door and we both stepped inside.
“Would you mind hitting the lights?” I asked, and Julian switched them on.
“Thanks,” I said, “I think this case is officially closed.”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“Well,” I started, “I just needed to make sure you had a key to this room. I already knew that you had access to the library printer, and I had a hunch that if I rooted around in that AV room of yours, I’d find a few red envelopes tucked in a desk drawer, or maybe in a filing cabinet?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Jack.”
“I’m talking about you pretending to be some kind of hero, Julian. I’m talking about you sneaking in here and swiping Madeleine’s painting. I’m talking about you throwing together a sloppy ransom note and then making up a loopy story about some masked bandit who just handed over his ill-gotten gains without so much as a single punch being thrown. I’m talking about going to Snit right now and setting him straight. That’s what I’m talking about, Julian. Now what are you talking about?”
Julian made a break for the door, but I was expecting that kind of lame move. I lowered my shoulder and bodychecked him on the way by. That sent him careening into the corner, and he ended up in a heap on the floor.
“You can’t prove anything!” he said, getting back up.
“I know that the computer in the AV room prints to the library. I bet we could check the print jobs that have been sent from that computer and we’d find that ransom note. What do you think, Julian? Should we talk to Snit? Get him to dig around a little bit?”
Julian sat back down in the corner and put his face in his hands. “I didn’t want it to come to this,” he admitted. “I just wanted to look at her painting, just for one night.”
“A likely story,” I said. “And then what? You just happened to hatch a fiendish scheme to blackmail your so-called friend and force her to pay fifty bucks to buy her own painting back? Not to mention the fact that you had her worried sick for the whole day! It’s time to come clean, Julian. Be honest, who put you up to it? Sebastian Cain? Mike Anderson? Who was it?”
“No!” he yelled. “It’s not like that! I just wanted to look at it for the night. After school yesterday I took it home. I meant to bring it back early this morning, but I slept in, and by the time I got here, everyone was talking about how Madeleine’s painting had been stolen. I couldn’t just bring it back. Then I heard that you’d been hired to solve the case and I came up with the ransom note idea. I thought, maybe, I could solve the case and get the painting back. Then, maybe, she’d notice me. It was a pretty stupid idea, I guess.”
“Yeah,” I said, “it was pretty stupid.”
“Well, at least she’s got her painting back. Now she still has a chance to win,” he said. “That’s the important thing.”
“You’re probably right,” I said.
“Now what?” he asked. “I guess I have to go admit everything to Mr. Snit, huh? But before you haul me in, Jack, give me the chance to talk to Madeleine? I want to tell her the truth myself, okay?”
“I don’t think that will be necessary,” I said.
“What do you mean?” he asked, standing up.
“I mean, this was a crime of passion,” I said, “plain and simple. You did something stupid to impress a girl. I can relate to that, believe me. But you’re going to owe me a favor, Julian, and it’s going to be a real doozy.”
“Oh, thank you, Jack!” he said, hugging me. That’s when KC Stone stepped into the room.
“Whoops,” she said. “I didn’t mean to interrupt something.”
“We’re just finishing up,” I said, pushing Julian away. “And you’re not interrupting anything important.”
“Thanks, Jack!” Julian said again.
“Forget about it,” I said. �
�Now am-scray before I change my mind.”
“Am-what?” he said.
“Get out of here!” I said. Julian didn’t need to be told twice.
“I don’t suppose you’ve got anything to put on the record for the newspaper, Lime?” KC asked.
“Not today,” I said.
“When you do have something to say,” she said, “you’ll make sure I’m the first to know, right?”
“Absolutely,” I said, stepping into the hall. “Now why don’t we get back to that art show?”
“Actually, Jack,” she said, “I think you need to go have that shower. You kind of reek.”
“Let me know how it all turns out.”
“Only if you tell me what just happened here?”
“No can do, kiddo,” I said, walking away.
“Fine,” she said. “Oh, and Jack, if you call me kiddo again, you’ll have more than just some rank BO to worry about.”
I walked outside, into a clear autumn night, and felt a little better about the world, even if I did let KC have the last word. All I cared about at that moment was scarfing down some of Grandma’s meatloaf and having a long, hot shower. Life was good — for a little while, anyway.
THE COMIC BOOK CAPER
Friday, November 1, 4:21 p.m.
A street with no name, Grandma’s House
KC Stone sat at my grandma’s kitchen table with a big slice of pumpkin pie, a glass of milk and a notebook lying in front of her. Her red hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and she was wearing a black T-shirt with the words “I’m sorry for your loss, but it’s my gain” printed across the front.
“You’re sure you want to do this, Lime?” she asked.
“Stone,” I said, “you’ve been hounding me for an interview since I cracked the Richie Renfrew case. Now you’re asking me if I’m sure I want to do this?”
“Professional courtesy,” she said, pulling a pencil out from behind her ear.
“Where should I start?” I asked, pushing my half-finished float to the side.
“From the very beginning, Jack. How did you get involved with this case?”
